Chapter 2

Jimmy's heart stopped as Thomas went under.

He screamed and stumbled forward, sliding down the embankment toward the dark hole in the ice where Thomas had disappeared. Time slowed to a crawl, as it did in nightmares, and Jimmy couldn't breathe.

Oh god, oh god, Thomas, come back up—

Thomas broke the surface of the black water, gasping and choking. His arms came up and he tried to grab hold of something, but his hands couldn't find purchase on the ice. There was no way he could climb out on his own—

Some dim memory surged forward in Jimmy, and suddenly he knew what to do. He threw himself down on the ground and slid onto the ice, pushing forward as fast as he could towards Thomas.

"Grab my hand!"

Thomas's face was white and his eyes were mad with shock, but his flailing hands managed to grab hold of Jimmy's.

Jimmy gripped him as tightly as he could and began to pull. For one horrifying moment he was the one dragged forward towards the hole, but then Jimmy's foot found an anchor on a half-submerged stone and he braced his weight against it, and pulled with all his might.

Thomas started to come up. Jimmy gritted his teeth and pulled even harder until the water relinquished its grip on his friend, and Thomas was free, gasping and shaking on top of the ice.

Sick with relief, Jimmy slid himself and Thomas away from the hole, the ice popping ominously beneath them as they went. When they reached solid ground Jimmy staggered to his feet and grabbed Thomas around the middle, pulling him up the snow bank. He dragged Thomas to the nearest tree and braced him against it, horror filling him when he saw that Thomas's eyes were closed.

"Thomas! Thomas!" Urgently he took Thomas's face in his hands and slapped his cheeks. "Thomas, wake up!"

Thomas's eyes fluttered open, but his head rolled on his shoulders as if he were drunk. "J-jimmy, y-you're alright… oh, tha-that's g-g-good…"

Jimmy swore and shook Thomas by the shoulders, hard. "Yes, yes I'm fine, you bloody idiot! But what do we do, what do we do now, Thomas? Thomas!"

Jimmy slapped his cheeks again.

Thomas blinked and looked at him blearily. "I th-th-think… I th-think there's a sh-sh-shed close by…"

"Good! Where is it?"

Thomas's knees buckled and he would've fallen if not for Jimmy's grip on him, but somehow he managed to raise a tremulous finger and point.

Jimmy squinted through the falling snow, but he couldn't see anything but more trees. Praying Thomas wasn't delirious, Jimmy wrapped his arm around him and half dragged, half carried his shivering body in the direction he'd indicated.

It was slow going, and Jimmy's arms burned and shook with effort. Several times he nearly dropped Thomas, but each time this happened he summoned up a fire from somewhere deep inside and it gave him strength. At last, the dark form of a keeper's shed appeared in the distance. It looked old and ready to collapse but Jimmy didn't care—it was shelter. Jimmy pushed them towards it with everything he had.

When they reached it he wrenched the door open one-handed and he and Thomas toppled inside.

Groaning, Jimmy heaved himself up and slammed the door behind them, cutting off the icy wind. Then he scrambled over to Thomas and pressed his hands to his frozen cheeks, praying he was still conscious.

He was, but only just. He was shivering all over, and his red mouth had turned as white as the rest of him. He looked like some of the soldiers had back in the war—like he'd been shot or blasted full of shrapnel, and was about to die.

"Thomas, are you still with me?" Jimmy asked frantically.

"Y-yeesss," Thomas managed. His teeth were chattering so hard Jimmy could barely understand him.

Trembling himself, Jimmy stood up and looked around. It was very dark in the shed, but the window let in just enough light for him to see. There were tools and some wooden crates and buckets in the corners—but no blankets and no way to build a fire. Jimmy cursed and tore open a box at random, desperate for something, anything that could help them. One had more tools in it, but the next held a heavy canvas tarp of some kind.

Jimmy dragged it out and spread it on the ground like a blanket, then he began tearing off Thomas's clothes as quickly as he could. He had imagined doing this many times before, late at night in bed when he touched himself—but his fantasies had been nothing like this.

"Thomas, stay awake. Just stay awake, alright? Stay awake…" Jimmy chanted.

Thomas didn't appear to be reacting much to the undressing, though Jimmy was pushing and pulling at him roughly, and that frightened Jimmy all the more. Thomas's clothes were soaked and extremely difficult to remove, but somehow Jimmy managed it. He threw the last of them aside with a cry of relief and began ripping off his own coat and shirt. As soon as he was bare from the waist up, Jimmy rolled Thomas's naked form onto the canvas and lay down with him, pressing his heart to Thomas's.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jimmy swore. Thomas's skin was like ice, and he was shivering so hard he rattled Jimmy's bones.

Forcing himself not to panic, Jimmy pulled the other end of the tarp over them both and wrapped his arms and legs around Thomas, trying to lock in what meager warmth he could.

Instinctively he reached between them and found Thomas's icy fingers. The leather glove on his left hand was wet, so Jimmy unbuttoned it too and threw it over his shoulder. Then he carefully brought both of Thomas's hands up and pressed them under his chin, trying to bring the blood back into them. Christ, but they were cold. Thomas was shivering so hard his breaths sounded like gasping, and oh god his eyes were closed again—

"Talk to me, Thomas!" He was terrified Thomas would close his eyes and not awaken.

"A-about… w-w-what?"

"I don't know, it doesn't matter, just talk, say anything, you have to stay awake—"

Thomas buried his face into Jimmy's neck, shuddering. His wet hair was so cold it made Jimmy hiss. "Y-you're…. v-v-very warm…?" Thomas rasped, teeth chattering.

Jimmy felt hysterical laughter threaten to burst from him. He'd never been colder in his life—he was shivering almost as hard as Thomas was. "Thank you!"

"I'm n-n-naked… aren't I?"

"Afraid so,"

Silence.

Jimmy tightened his grip on Thomas and rubbed his back, trying to give him as much of his body heat as he could. "Thank you for looking for me," Jimmy heard himself say. "I was drunk and I lost me way in the woods…"

I don't feel so drunk now, though, Jimmy thought. He was certain he'd never been more sober in his life.

Thomas huffed against his neck, as if he were trying to snort in derision. "Knew y-you'd d-done something foolish."

"That's rich, coming from you," Jimmy said. Teasing, yes, teasing was good, it would keep Thomas talking. "Who didn't watch where he was going and walked out onto a frozen river? It sure weren't me."

When Thomas gave no reply, Jimmy pressed his cheek to Thomas's and spoke directly in his ear.

"Do not fall asleep, Mr. Barrow. Keep yourself talking and keep your eyes open. Tell us—" Jimmy's mind was blank. Something, anything…! "—Tell us how you knew about this shed."

Thomas buried closer, and Jimmy felt his eyelashes flutter against his collarbone. "Y-years ago… I h-hid Isis in here," he said faintly. "…but shhhe g-got loose…"

Jimmy was taken aback despite everything. "What?"

"I w-were trying… to get his lordship to— to trust me so he'd… hire me as v-v-valet," Thomas explained haltingly. "S-so I kidnapped… his dog s-so I could f-find her for him later… sssee?"

Amusement and affection made Jimmy smile so hard his face hurt, and fresh tears pricked his eyes. Unthinkingly he pressed a kiss to Thomas's frozen black hair. "Blimey but you're a bastard. What happened after she got loose?"

Thomas paused, and Jimmy knew it was because he'd felt the kiss. Jimmy's heart thudded in his chest. Oh, now you've done it.

"I-I panicked," Thomas managed. "I ran about the w-woods all night… c-cursing that bloody dog… Wh-when it were d-d-daylight I showed up on the—on the g-grounds looking a sight… with dirt all over m-me and me clothes undone, and—and here c-comes Isis b-bounding up to me… with his lordship."

"…What did his lordship say?"

"He asked me what I w-w-were doin, and I t-told him I'd been looking f-for—for his dog all night… which were true. Th-then he s-said some nonsense about—'bout b-being glad there was still decency in the world," Thomas said. "…and I got the job."

Laughter burst from Jimmy, and he couldn't stop.

He laughed until he was breathless and his stomach ached. Eventually he realized he was having some sort of fit. Horror was spreading all through him, turning his mirth to something else, something bad—not even the war had made him feel like this— and his breath turned to helpless, panicked gasps.

Oh, god.

Thomas had almost died.

The ice could have taken him under and not released him.

They might've had to wait for spring to find his body.

Jimmy would've had to return to Downton alone, and he would've sat down in the servant's hall and Thomas's chair would've been empty— and it would have been empty the next day, too, and the next, and the—

"Jimmy? Jimmy? Wh-what's the matter? It's alright now…"

Jimmy really couldn't breathe and his heart was pounding so hard he felt like it was going to explode out of his chest in a shower of blood. Desperately he clutched at Thomas, digging his nails into his back. He couldn't leave Jimmy alone—

"Jimmy!"

Thomas weakly pressed a hand to Jimmy's cheek, his eyes wide in the darkness as he forced Jimmy to meet his gaze.

Jimmy saw Thomas and took in a breath.

He's alive he's alive he's alive not dead and he's depending on you stop it stop it stop it— get ahold of yourself, soldier—

Eventually Jimmy calmed himself enough to take in another breath. And another. Thomas weakly stroked Jimmy's shoulder. "That's it… that's it Jimmy… breathe…"

For a long time Jimmy focused only on breathing in and out, his hands gradually easing their clawed grip in Thomas's skin. He didn't look away from Thomas's eyes the whole time.

When he finally managed to get himself back under control he felt shame and exhaustion in equal measure, washing over him like a dark wave. Jimmy shut his eyes and pressed his hand to Thomas's chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm.

Warmth.

Life.

All the rest of it don't matter.

Eyes burning, Jimmy ran his hands down Thomas's back, memorizing the feel of him so close and alive. His front was almost as warm as Jimmy's now, but his back was still chilled, so Jimmy crawled over Thomas and pressed his bare chest to Thomas's spine. Then he wrapped his arms tight around Thomas and pressed his face into his neck, breathing in deeply. Thomas smelled like the icy river, not at all like his usual scent of cigarettes and aftershave.

Jimmy shuddered, and drew his hand back up Thomas's chest to feel his heartbeat.

Gradually Thomas's shivers eased to a faint tremor. The tarp did a lot to shelter him from the icy air in the shed; it was rough and smelled like dust, but it was dry and thicker than any blanket. Thomas was immensely grateful for it. However, it was Jimmy's heat that was slowly bringing him back to the land of the living, and it felt something like being woken from a deep sleep.

Despite the ongoing danger of their situation, a big part of Thomas was happy. He couldn't help but enjoy lying in Jimmy's arms. He thought he'd never know how their bodies fit together, or what Jimmy's bare skin would feel like pressed to his own—but now he knew, and no matter what happened later he'd always have this memory.

He also knew it was a good thing he was too exhausted and ill to become aroused: in any other circumstance, Thomas was certain he would've been hard as a diamond long before now.

Or perhaps not, Thomas thought. The part of him that wasn't happy was worried about Jimmy.

Why had Jimmy panicked and wept? Thomas had never seen anything like it, especially not from the likes of Jimmy Kent. There had been bursts of emotion from him before but it had always been anger, not—not whatever that had been. It was like Jimmy had lost all control over himself, as if terror and something like grief had risen up to swallow him whole. Had Thomas falling through the ice somehow reminded Jimmy of the war, or some other awful thing? Thomas hoped not; he never wanted Jimmy to suffer as many other ex-soldiers had, shell shocked and haunted.

And now Jimmy was acting very strangely, nuzzling his face into Thomas's neck and shoulder… and he still hadn't removed his hand from Thomas's heart.

You're mad, Thomas told himself. You've almost died, you should be focused on staying alive until morning, you should be making plans. What are you doing thinking about all of this rubbish?

But this is Jimmy Kent, another part of Thomas put in helpfully. How can I not?

Thomas would have pondered this much longer had not the ache in his left hand began to tighten and throb. It did this sometimes in cold weather, or when he strained his hand with too much physical labor. The extreme cold of the river and the way he had it curled up so tightly for warmth had finally taken its toll. Thomas winced and tried opening and closing his fingers; pain spiked up his hand to his wrist, making him draw in a sharp breath.

"What is it?" Jimmy murmured. His voice was rough, as if he'd been close to sleep.

Thomas rotated his wrist carefully, pain shooting little daggers up his arm. "Just me blighty. It hurts sometimes in the cold."

Jimmy took his palm from Thomas's chest and caught his wounded hand in his. "Would—" Jimmy stopped, and cleared his throat. "Would it help if I gave it a rub, like a… massage?"

Thomas wanted to laugh. Jimmy had an open invitation to anything he wanted as far as Thomas was concerned—especially if it involved touching him.

"It might," Thomas replied evenly.

"Turn over, then," Jimmy said.

Thomas did with an effort, his heart fluttering. Thank god it's too dark for him to see my face, he thought. Or me ugly hand.

When he was settled on his side, Jimmy took his hand and began rubbing it gently between his own. It hurt, but Thomas didn't mind.

"Is this alright?" Jimmy asked softly.

Thomas nodded, then remembered Jimmy couldn't see him. "Yes," he said.

Jimmy continued with the massage, gradually building pressure and then releasing it. Slowly it started to feel very warm and good, the sharp pain easing back to a dull, almost non-existent ache. Thomas wondered if he should tell Jimmy it was alright to stop now, or if he should just keep quiet so Jimmy would continue—

Jimmy's lips brushed the back of his hand.

Thomas's breath stuttered in shock. Surely that hadn't really been—

Jimmy kissed his fingers, very lightly, and there was no mistaking it. Then he did it again and again until he was pressing desperate kisses all over Thomas's wounded hand, his breath hot against Thomas's skin.

"Jimmy," Thomas gasped. "What are you—"

"Shut it!" Jimmy snapped. His voice cracked and he sounded angry. Thomas was too shocked to make sense of it, his head spinning.

"Don't say one word, this is all your fault, you bleedin' lavender bastard," Jimmy spat. Through the tender, warm kisses Thomas thought he felt a drop of water. Was Jimmy crying?

"I hate you," Jimmy hissed with passion.

"Jimmy—"

"I said be quiet!"

Then Thomas felt Jimmy fumble for his face in the dark, and as soon as he found it he closed the space between them and began pressing more kisses all over Thomas's mouth and chin and hair, wherever he could reach. Thomas felt drunk with joy—perhaps he'd died after all, and this was some sort of gloriously strange afterlife—

"Just once, alright, just once," Jimmy was muttering between kisses. "I just want it one time and then I won't ask for any more—"

Thomas tried to kiss Jimmy back, wishing he could see his face, but he couldn't catch Jimmy's mouth with his.

"Just once, just once," Jimmy said again. It sounded almost as if he were talking to himself and not Thomas, but Thomas responded anyway.

"Jimmy what—what do you mean?"

Jimmy groaned softly and rolled on top of Thomas, his breath coming in quick pants. Thomas felt another drop of hot water hit his cheek. "I love you," Jimmy breathed, and it sounded like an accusation. "But I never asked for this, it's all your fault, so just one time we're going to— but never again, alright? Just here, once—"

Another kiss to his lips, and this time Thomas reached up and held Jimmy to him, kissing him deeply.

Jimmy kissed him back clumsily, his mouth trembling and soft, and Thomas felt such a fierce loving tenderness for him that it was like his heart was breaking. Jimmy Kent loved him.

If this was death, Thomas thought, then it weren't so bad at all.